Shhh! Don’t tell anyone but I’m secretly rather worried that the old man is looking hotter than me in middle-age.
Since we moved to the city he has made radical changes to his lifestyle and it’s beginning to show.
Obviously I haven’t told him that. In fact I still remind him, on a daily basis at least, how lucky he is to have me, and how no one would look at him twice now. Especially since his nosedive into the courtyard, which has left him with facial scarring that refuses to tan to the same tone as the rest of his skin.
Even so, I have this niggling feeling that he is looking younger, while I look more and more like Yoda.
I always looked younger than him before – It was rather unfortunate for him that he started to bald prematurely in his early thirties (NOT). But have you noticed how a lot of bald men start to look good around 40? Look at Jason Statham, Bruce Willis and Kelly Slater, for example.
And I KNOW looks shouldn’t matter, but…
Why do some men get better looking with age? Why do their laughter lines look attractive, whereas women’s look like crows feet? Why do they look distinguished with greying hair, when we look haggard and old?
He has been running to and from work, though, (THE CHEAT!), and yesterday I caught him doing suspicious looking stretches on the stairs. I even spotted muscle tone on his chest and the reappearance of his navel when he came back spluttering and sweating from his run and removed his lycra shirt in order to breathe more easily.
Who the fuck chooses to wear lycra in their forties anyway? Someone who is feeling overconfident about their triceps, I think.
Come to think of it, he’s been walking shirtless around the house a lot recently.
Even his man boobs are becoming tamed. They’re still there, but they’ve diminished to an A cup now and are looking suspiciously taut. He likes to refer to himself as ‘a honed athlete’ now, as he grabs my muffin top affectionately – which makes me want to finish off the job that the courtyard fucked up, frankly.
Of course we ridicule him and goad him about looking too thin, (by some standards ‘unwell’), but the truth is that he is looking leaner.
Should I be worried?
It’s a well-known fact that exercise is not good for a woman’s looks – there’s the potential for all that sun damage, the risk of additional facial lines being created from the inner tension of having to do something you hate, the risk of the little elasticity left in your boobs stretching to full capacity and of course, there’s also the risk of uterine prolapse – which is obviously why I’ve never considered it seriously before.
But it’s also a well-known fact that forty-something men can be led astray by younger, predatory women with firm breasts, long legs and tight vajayjays – the same women who don’t consider sweat pants and dressing gowns an acceptable form of daywear.
So, do I compete with the old man and raise my game? Do I trade the dressing gown for something sexier, give up my lunches at Max Brenner and Konstantino’s Kebobs, or do I trust that he will love me for who I am on the inside?
Best dig out those running shoes then…